


My Stuff

by PaisleyWraith



Category: South Park
Genre: Background Kenny/Kyle, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 02:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14510778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyWraith/pseuds/PaisleyWraith
Summary: A fascination with a classmate’s jacket over a period of months leads Butters to an interesting realization.





	My Stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Townycod13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Townycod13/gifts).



It was something so simple that held his fascination. He didn’t really think about it much, didn’t bother analyzing the idea. It flitted through his mind and he took a sideways look from across the hall as the boy bounced around, clearly excited over something. Token was listening, but only barely, Jimmy much more invested in whatever the boy was blathering. 

It was his jacket. Soft looking, worn and comfortable, white sleeves and hood settled in red, something he’d seen a million times and just never thought much about. Butters chewed his lip, fidgeting his fingers over his closed locker. 

It was a weird question, but he asked it anyway, catching the boy as he walked past him. 

“Hey, Clyde?” The blond stood nervously on his toes, not sure why he suddenly felt all jittery inside. 

The kid stopped so quickly he tripped over his untied neon shoelaces. 

“Hey,” He said, quizzical expression locked on the boy. 

“I just-“ Well now he looked stupid, Token and Jimmy were listening in and Clyde was staring at him like he couldn’t understand why he was talking to him. “Where’d you get your coat?” 

“My jacket?” Clyde shifted on his feet, beat-up converse squeaking against the school floor. 

“Um, yeah?” His hands felt clammy. 

Clyde took a long breath through the nose and smiled, pointing in Butters’ direction and starting to slide backwards. 

“Goootta go!” The boy said, grin nearly splitting his face, and began speed-walking down the hallway.

Butters, Token, and Jimmy watched the boy hustle, turning into a jog somewhere down the end of the hall. Butters turned to the two boys. 

“I have no idea,” Token said, leaning back against the lockers. 

-

It stayed weird like that. Clyde got real weird over his coat and it just didn’t make sense. They sat next to each other in world history, Clyde chewing on his pencils and Butters watching him from the side. 

His jacket looked soft, and warm. That was likely the appeal of it, and maybe it came in blue, or some less harsh color. He juggled his foot below his desk, watching Clyde gnaw on his writing utensil as he read the PowerPoint the teacher was reading from. 

Butters licked his lips. Took a look around. He wasn’t being watched. Which was good. He hasn’t told anyone about his fascination with Clyde’s varsity-style jacket. 

Dougie wouldn’t understand it. Kenny might, considering what he was currently trying to do, but he’d just ask him when exactly he developed his jacket fetish. Neither would be any kind of helpful and he didn’t bother. 

Clyde was rolling the pencil between his teeth, frowning at the teacher in confusion, and Butters licked his lips again. 

“Hey,” He said, watching the teacher. Clyde didn’t hear. 

His stomach flipped. He shifted slightly, leaning on his right elbow, sending a quick look at the teacher before focusing. 

“Clyde?” He whispered, and there, the boy heard him. 

He looked over, eyebrows raised, surprised, pencil still in his mouth. He looked like a litte blue-eyed puppy, watching curiously. 

Butters stared. Funnily enough, he felt like a lot of people he knew had blue eyes. He has blue eyes, pale and glasslike. Kenny, he blue eyes, bright and multicolored in all shades. Tweek has bright blue as well, one half brown. Clyde’s eyes were darker than them all, almost navy, but still incredibly colorful. 

He found he couldn’t say anything. Clyde kept staring. He kept staring. 

Butters reached, nervously, and tugged lightly at his jacket sleeve. Clyde ripped his arm away, protectively crossing his arms. His pencil was still in his mouth and he stared at Butters like he grew six heads. Butters colored, feeling dumb, and tried desperately to fix the situation. 

“Sorry,” he started, and was harshly shushed. He looked over his shoulder to see Kyle Broflovski staring him down with a glare promising death. Probably hating this class was required for everyone, including smart people. 

Butters pressed his lips together in a slight pout and turned back around. Jeez. Clyde was still watching him, slowly bringing the pencil down from his mouth. Butters didn’t look at him again. 

—

He didn’t understand why Clyde was weird about the coat. He felt oddly determined, however, he didn’t want to give up. 

It worked out fine at lunch, because Dougie was trying to get a kid he liked to talk to him. Kenny watched him pass his usual table, however, and Butters took a deep breath. 

He set his tray down at Clyde’s table, and that earned a couple looks. Craig in particular narrowed his eyes and checked behind him, it was knowing how much he hated Cartman and disliked the rest of the gang that made that understandable. 

Oh boy. Everyone was watching him now and he didn’t think this through. 

“Hi!” He said, bravely, staring the group down. 

“Hey, Butters,” Clyde piped up, looking like the only person happy to see him. 

He nervously took a seat next to the boy and the rest of the table went back to their conversations. 

Butters nervously poked at his pasta, Clyde talking excitedly about the end of the year upcoming. He felt awful fidgety suddenly. Clyde’s arm would touch his sometimes when he gestured, that jacket brushing his bare arm. 

He watched Clyde for a while, not really listening until he was addressed. Clyde was staring at him, smiling, waiting for an answer. 

Aw rats. He hadn’t been paying attention at all. 

“What?” He asked, coloring slightly. 

“Are you going to play baseball with us in the spring?” Clyde repeated himself. “I know Kenny is, are you?” 

Whether Kenny did or not made no difference to Butters. Kenny was going to be there for somebody else. Someone a little smarter and a little more athletic. 

But. 

“Yup,” He said, having no clue. 

“See, Craig, even Butters will be there!” Clyde said, and the words stung a little. 

Butters wasn’t sure what he meant by that, so he pretended he didn’t notice. 

“We’re not joining,” Craig staunchly protested, including the boyfriend who was out sick today. “It’s stupid and everyone there is stupid and we’ll have better things to do with our time.” 

“Hey, I’ll be there!” Clyde protested, and Craig tried to hide a teasing smirk. 

Butters watched Clyde out of the corner of his eye, bright red and white and whining at Craig. Watched, listened, and maybe moved his arm slightly so it was more likely to be touched by the soft coat. 

—

Kenny cornered him after school let out. 

“So. How is it going?” The blond asked, mischevious blue eyes glittering. “How’s the wooing?” 

“Aw-!” Butters tried to cut himself off of his old habit words and struggled. “Kenny, no! It’s not like that.” 

Kenny’s expression was fond, but still had a sense of assholery about it. “You kept touching him all during lunch. It’s cute, man.” 

“I just want his coat,” Butters quickly looked over his shoulder and back at his friend. “That’s all, Ken, jeez.” 

There, Kenny tilted his head. “His....coat?” 

Butters squirmed. “Yeah.” 

Kenny scratched his cheek. “...Why?” 

Butters traced the grout of the tile with his shoe. “...Dunno.” 

“Okay.” Kenny never looked at him like he was stupid, and didn’t do so now. What he did do was thoughtfully lean against Butters’ locker. “You uh...you talk to him about that?” 

“Uh huh.” Butters watched Stan walk by with Kyle, the redhead ranting about something to do with Eric Cartman and something about a group project. 

Kenny watched the two, smiling casually, though Butters saw the switch in his expression. Something more direct, solemn. Serious. 

Butters chewed on his lip. 

“How’s, um,” Neither of them ever really said anything about Kenny’s pursuit out loud. Or how oblivious his target was. “How’s stuff?” 

“Stuff’s driving me crazy,” Kenny said immediately, throwing his head back to smack against the locker. “Stupid stuff. I want stuff and stuff has no goddamn idea.” 

Butters tried to suppress a giggle and failed. “That’s some oblivious stuff,” he teased, and Kenny looked delighted.

“The most oblivious stuff I’ve ever seen,” Kenny couldn’t help the giggles himself. “And all I want to do is do stuff.” 

“...Kenny,” 

“Or, more accurately, I’d rather have stuff do me-“ 

“ _Kenny_ -“ Butters was trying to muffle himself now, the two blondes giggling over nothing. 

“Hey,” The taller boy said, elbowing him. “Your own stuff is coming down the hall. Go walk home with him. Ask about his coat without anyone near.” 

Butters turned, seeing Clyde trotting beside Craig. He looked back at Kenny, who was watching him with a soft expression. 

“Go get ‘im, Leo,” Kenny urged, picking up his worn backpack and leaving Butters to decide on his own. 

He looked back at Clyde. Bit down hard on his lip. And took a plunge. 

He started following the two out of the school, taking a breath before jogging up to Clyde. 

“Hey!” He stammered, making them both turn. “Clyde, wanna walk...home...” together. Aw, gosh, it did sound like he wanted stuff. 

Clyde looked at Craig, like a child looking for permission. His blue eyes were huge. 

“Just...just go,” Craig looked long-suffering, and Clyde hopped into a 180 turn to jog back towards the blond. 

“What’s up?” Clyde said, falling into step with him. Now Butters had no clue what to say. 

“Mmm,” He made a noise of covered panic. 

“Cool,” Clyde said, brows wrinkled in confusion. “Uh... Hey! You sign up for baseball yet?” 

“Not yet,” Butters said, watching the boy walk backwards in order to watch him. 

“Do it soon!” He urged, dark blue eyes all seriousness as he smiled. “It’ll be fun! It’s been forever since we played together!” 

“Yeah,” Butters squeaked oddly. He found it a little difficult to swallow. In the sun, Clyde’s hair looked a little reddish and his eyes were dark, and that jacket was bright red and glowing. 

“I like your jacket,” Butters said helplessly, stupidly. 

Clyde shoved his hands in his pockets, that odd look over his face again. “...Thanks,” He said, turning back around and walking beside him silently. 

Both boys were quiet. Butters fiddled with his backpack straps. Clyde didn’t leave, but he didn’t talk immediately either. They continued on, the brunet silent. 

He chewed his lips just like Butters did. He noticed that and the fact his lips were visibly chapped. Butters licked his own lips at the sight, just as Clyde finally spoke. 

“My mom bought it,” he finally admitted, hands still shoved in his pockets. 

“Ohh,” Butters breathed, and his heart sank into his stomach. Clyde’s mom had died a few years ago, the coat had to be one of the last things he got from her if it still fit. 

He reached for him, automatically, gently brushing his hand over his forearm. Clyde froze up, inhaling audibly, but didn’t push him away. 

The jacket was warm under his palm, and soft, and his hand somehow fit in the crook of his arm somewhere on the walk home, and Butters remained close. 

—

He didn’t talk about the jacket again. Never said a single word about it again. He walked back home with him a couple days, but never brought it up again, even if it continued to catch his eye. Across the library, the lunchroom, the town once school let out. Red. 

He did sign up for baseball, that spring, but was fated to miss a game soon after it started. An accident at school meant he’d twisted his ankle, badly enough he couldn’t even walk without pain, which meant he was sitting this one out. 

He hobbled towards the field in the chilly May evening, anyway, anything was better than home. Summer was real awful in all the spare time you got. 

He had to abruptly change his course on the walk over, Kyle Broflovski had Kenny shoved up against one of the empty concession stands and seemed to be very occupied with rumpling his uniform. 

Whoo boy. Butters would probably hear all about that later. 

He limped to sit in the cold grass, having forgotten any chairs, and watched his breath mist in front of him as the boys on the field began to warm up. 

Kenny was late, jogging rather smugly to join the rest on the field, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Butters watched him half-arm tackle Stan delightedly, the boy covering his face as Kyle moved to sit on the cold bleachers with a quiet, smug smile. 

He was watching the two with a grin when something warm was draped around his shoulders with care. He looked up to see Clyde smiling down at him from behind, smoothing something over his shoulders. 

His jacket. 

The coveted coat Butters had been fixated on was cozily settled around him, the owner watching him just as warmly. 

“You look cold,” Clyde said, hands still on his shoulders. “Keep an eye on this for me, okay?” 

“‘Kay,” Butters stammered, turning red. 

Clyde smiled and let go, bounding out to the field to- wow, he talked Craig and Tweek into it after all. 

The game started, Butters shoved his arms into the coat. 

The jacket was warm. It smelled strongly of Clyde and there were washed-out grass stains on the sleeves, like he laid in the grass on a regular basis. Butters wrapped his arms around his legs, discreetly resting his chin on the fabric. His heart was racing, and he watched Clyde bounce around the outfield happily. 

He had the jacket. His heart was pounding in his ears. This was...what he wanted. The phantom imagery of Clyde smiling down at him, upside down, pressed into his brain. 

Ah. 

That was....what he wanted. 

He wanted stuff. 

Butters stared at his own shoes, mind drawing a long blank. 

Blue eyes. A fascination with lips, with brown hair, with the color red. The energy, enthusiasm, the days of weeks and months of desire he hadn’t understood to the point of projecting it onto an article of clothing. 

He wanted Clyde. Not the coat. The wearer.

He looked back up, heart thudding wildly. Clyde Donovan, huh? He wondered when exactly that happened. 

And why it wasn’t as big of a surprise as he expected. 

—

He was still wearing the coat when the game ended, wrapped warmly and comfortably. He shuffled around the field, waiting as the boys went about their separate ways. 

Kenny waved to Butters from where he stood talking with Kyle and Stan, the redhead leaning against him comfortably. 

Craig, Tweek, and Token were meeting up with Jimmy, and Clyde broke off from them to jog over to the blond. 

Butters began to shimmy out of the coat, but Clyde shrugged. 

“Keep it on,” He said, looking strangely determined. “You can...you can borrow it. I don’t know where she got it.” 

Butters’ heart melted. He still thought he just liked the jacket. 

“Aw, Clyde,” He said softly, and the other boy turned red. 

“Hey, uh,” He sent a look over his shoulder, where his normal crew was watching a little...intensely. Like they knew what was happening. “You, uh, hungry? Maybe?” 

Butters swallowed. Goosebumps rose on his arms. “Yep,” He squeaked, snuggled into the coat. 

Clyde bit his lip, and Butters reached for his hand. The brunet’s eyes widened before he took it, a little nervously. 

Both of them stared at each other. Then Butters smiled, and squeezed his hand. 

Clyde’s nervous look eased, and he reddened as he squeezed back, chattering as they walked off towards the nearest burger joint together. 

And maybe it was super nice, listening to him talk and joining in the giggles and gossip after so long pining. Maybe he might’ve kissed Clyde on the cheek before they left, maybe Clyde walked him home. 

And maybe he kissed him right on the mouth on his front steps and ran home, leaving the blond boy staring after him with the feeling of warm chapped lips on his mouth and a jacket still around his shoulders that he’d return tomorrow. 

He’d update Kenny on stuff later.


End file.
